


Nothing Needs To Be Said In The End

by SaintClaire



Category: Marvel, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, Memories, Sif's POV, fighting for the people you love, getting better, it CAN be fixed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintClaire/pseuds/SaintClaire
Summary: Sif is upset and confused by Loki when he is dragged back from Midgard and imprisoned, but she is too involved with him to just ignore what's happening. How, When, and Why, complete with a happy-ish ending!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece I ever wrote for fan fiction. Therefore, the quality is/was dubious but I liked it enough to clean it up a bit and post it anyway.

 

Sif missed him. The familiar presence in the room, the musical voice slipping through the air, even the smell was noticeably absent. She had not been to see him in the cells since he had be brought back to Asgard. Part of her was too confused, too hurt by his betrayal. The other part… she didn’t know.

 

Her heart had ached for him, when Thor had revealed the truth behind Loki’s parentage. She saw parts of what his mind had thought, what he must have believed, but still didn’t understand. How could Loki have done what he did, killed so many people just to take his vengeance on Odin? The image didn’t match in her mind, didn’t fit with any of the thousands of memories she kept treasured in the innermost chambers of her mind, where not even the God of Thieves could steal them away from her.

 

_It had been a bigger-than-usual fight between her, and her mother and brother, the result being that Sif had run out of the house sobbing, looking for a place to hide. One of the vast gardens had looked empty from her window, and she ran to it, throwing herself down by one of the lavender bushes._

_Of course he had found her. How he always found her when she was upset she didn’t know, but he did. It had never unnerved her. He slipped into the shade of the bush like a shadow, sitting close enough so they were just barely touching, and sat there, waiting for her as she sobbed.   When she had finally calmed down enough to lay her head on her knees with her face turned towards him he looked at her, unspeaking. Nothing needed to be said.  He took her hand idly, and closed it around the several buds of lavender he had picked. She hoped that he was not so attuned to her that he heard the slight flutter of her heart as he had picked up her hand. Her feelings were confusing even to her, and she was not ready to speak to the younger prince about them._

_He smiled, closing her hand tightly around the fragrant little buds, and whispered several words, none of which had any meaning to her. He gently pried her fingers away from her palm, and she watched, mesmerised, as dozens of the little purple butterflies flew upwards. Even when the last delicate flutter of purple had vanished from her hand, they flew around her head in a halo, eventually weaving into the golden locks and becoming still, sweet-smelling flowers once more. Loki smiled, gently, his face simple and open, not hidden by it’s usual sombre mask._

_Moments later the voice had called, stealing him away from her, back to the queen. He had smiled directly at her before he left though, sitting in a bush with the little purple flower buds threaded through her hair. It was only later that she realised he had never said a word to her at all._

Sif trained like she hadn’t trained in her early days as a warrior, needing to prove something to every pair of eyes that watched her. Dummies and novice partners alike, both fell before her vicious sword. She worked for hours each day, pouring out her thoughts and her pain in sweat, desperate to keep her mind too busy to think. It didn’t work though. Her days were full of sweat and anger, but the night brought dreams, the painfully raw memories of better days and the nightmarish memories of more recent ones. She had woken the night before, lunging out of bed with a dagger in her hand as she looked for the source of her lover’s screams. The dream had been so vivid in her head, so painful and full of agony as the torturous sounds had poured out of Loki’s mouth that she had searched the entire room, under the bed and in the closet alike, even checking with the guards that stood at either end of the corridor that no one was there. She had curled up at the very end of the bed for the rest of the night, clutching her dagger to her chest like it would keep her safe from the screams in her head. She still misses him.

 

_The morning Sif’s mother had woken to see the state of her daughters newly-dark head had nearly destroyed Sif. Her mother had correctly guessed that Loki was responsible for the deed from the colour of the hair, but refused to believe Sif when her daughter said that she had asked him to do it.  Furious, her parents sought council with the Queen, and Loki was forced before the All-Mother, made to confess to what he had done, even though he had done it from kindness.  Sif was barred from coming, forced into the washtub with a maid servant commanded to scrub as hard as possible at the short strands of hair, a futile effort to see if they would reset back to their previous gold.  When she later earned of his punishment Sif had screamed so loudly that her voice cracked and broke. ‘I asked him to do it for me!’._

_Sif’s mother had kept her in the household for a month, searching the dwarves and elves alike for spells that would reverse the colour of her only daughters hair. She found none. The day the Sif was finally allowed to leave the house the warrior had run, run to every possible spot she knew Loki might hide in peace, reading his beloved books. She had found him eventually, sitting by the same lavender bush she had cried under so many years ago, with thick brown cord twisting his mouth shut._

_She didn’t speak a word, merely sat before him, cradling his chin in her hands as she inspected the knot. As the ‘crime’ had been inflicted on her, only she would be able to physically undo the knot. They sat there until the sun went down, Sif pulling the cord as gently as could from his lips, trying not to jostle the string anymore than was absolutely necessary. Afterwards, when the wretched cord had finally fallen to the earth and Sif had ground it into the dirt with her heel did she hug Loki as hard as she could, letting him sob in wracked pants into her stomach, both their bodies shaking as he tried regain his composure. Nothing needed to be spoken._

She doesn’t really eat any more, apart from the few bites she forces herself to choke down at every meal. The lack of food, lack of sleep and upped hours of training are taking their toll on her. Thor looks at her worriedly, and she debates to herself, wondering wether or not she wants to ask him about the condition of the fallen prince. Their relationship had been a secret to everyone, is she ready to ask such a question?, she wonders to herself. Yes, she decides. She needs to.

 

Her slight question about Loki’s welfare surprises Thor, who nearly spits the chicken bone he’s chewing on across the table. He answers her cautiously, breaching the sensitive topic with care. “He is… well enough. Mother visits him regularly, taking him some of his books, but… He just sits there, like an animal staring from a cage. He will barely speak to her.” A traitorous though sneaks into Sif’s mind as she pushes herself up from the table, bile rising in her throat. ‘I wonder if he would speak to me?’

 

_Banging and shouting can be heard clearly from the training ground, where Thor and the Warriors Three are not making any effort to be quiet. Loki is making no effort to be quiet either, but the difference is she cannot even hear him breathing when she listens for it. He lies there, calm and peaceful under the sun by the lake. Sif loves to see him like this. Even for her, he will pull masks over his face, but when he truly believes he is alone, his face is the opposite of his title as the God of Thieves. When he lies in the sun like this, his faces shines with peace and truth. Or it will until he opens his eyes and sees her._

_She leaps over his legs in a swift bound, sitting against him as his eyes fly open in shock, torso bending away from the ground. Irritated at her position being jostled, she shoves his shoulder hard to the ground with a smirk, relaxing again as he lies back down when he sees who it is._

_“I should have know it was you. Who else would dare to disturb me, let alone sneak up and disturb me?” She had laughed, tipping her own face back to enjoy the sun as he traced patterns on the thin slice of skin where her shirt had hiked up at the back. They had lain like that for some time, enjoying the sun and each others company, until Sif rolls onto her side and asks him what he was doing if he wasn’t training, which is what he was supposed to be doing._

_“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirked, twisting his head so the bare skin of her back is still visible, though her shirt has been pushed up considerably since she first sat down. Sif rolls over him in a flash, shoving him into the pond, and curses herself internally as he anticipates the move, latching onto her arm as he plunges into the water. Through the haze of bubbles she can see his hair floating around his face, and she wraps her hands into it as she kisses him, bubbles floating upwards as they both laugh._

The morning Sif reaches her hand into the wardrobe for clothes and pulls out a pair of Loki’s breeches has her doubled in pain on the floor. He had put a spare clothes in her bedchamber, as she had in his after all clothing was completely destroyed one cold night when they made their own heat together. Given the looks Loki had earned as he walked back to his own room in a pair of women's breeches and a torn cloak, he had spent the next week memorising any spells to do with clothing or fabric in the library, until Sif had ‘surprised’ him in the middle of his studying, wearing no clothes at all.

 

She pulls the slightly large breeches on, doing the belt up more tightly than she usually has to. Sif wonders how many more small reminders of him will curl into her heart today, and does not have to wonder very long. She sees Frigga, a small pile of books in hand descending down the steps to the holding cells and the dungeons. Sif follows her, moving with the same quiet grace she had practised with Loki, on innumerable hunting trips through the years. She stops outside the last stone supporting arch Frigga walks through, listening to the guards on the other side acknowledge the queen. What is she doing here? Is she trying to punish herself more?

 

The brief murmur of Loki’s voice as he greets his mother seems to make her feet grow roots. She is glued to the floor, listening with starving ears to the small, mostly one-sided conversation. Her heart aches for him, listening to his weary words about his general health, and the bitter thanks he gives in exchange for the little parcel of books. She wants more than anything to walk unnoticed into the room, to see his face, to touch his hand. She realises she doesn’t care why he did what he did. Her lover was buried for years inside himself, at times unrecognisable to all but her. This was simply another, thicker layer over him, brought about by the unsettling news of the All-father.

 

When Frigga leaves, Sif leaps back into the shadows, far enough away that the queen does not see her. She should follow, she knows, but she needs to see his face. She needs to see that he is at least unharmed, is physically well if not mentally. Slipping to the other side of the double doors so she can peer through the crack where they haven’t quite closed, Sif lets out a noiseless sigh. He stands side-on to her, so she can see his profile, part of his face. She can almost feel his bitterness pouring in waves off him as he stares at the pile of 5 books that occupy his cell, he who had read every volume and every language in the palace’s great library.

 

She watches his head tip back, lines of weariness creep over his face as he turns toward her, walking to the narrow bed in the white cell. She watches, mouth open as he conjures golden smoke from his fingers, pulling it into narrow strips and writing with it in the air. She tries desperately to read it, but he waves it away before she can even glimpse it properly. As he lies down and shuts his eyes, Sif creeps backwards, making her plans to return.

 

_When people had started speaking about her upcoming engagement to Thor, Loki had vanished for three days. Sif had stomped all over the castle, oblivious to who heard her call for him, finally finding him as he vanished into the private bath in his quarters. Not stopping to think, Sif stormed into the room, ignoring the glare of disapproval as the prince looked up from the steaming water to see who had so rudely entered his private chambers. She glared at him as he glared at her, neither speaking, waiting for the other to speak first. Sadly for Sif, her unhelpful lack of patience meant it was going to be her._

_“If you must sulk about a rumour, it at least ought to be related to you, and if it’s not even related to you, I would have thought you would at least check the truth first!” Her lover had scowled harder at her words, and his own cut through the rising steam like snakes._

_“I know you and Thor went before mother and father to speak of your engagement. I know – “_

_Whatever else Loki may have known was never said as Sif rolled her eyes, and agilely leapt into the bath, clothes and all to put her hand over the Silvertongue’s mouth. “You clearly don’t know. If you did, you would have know that Thor and I went to the Majesties to see if we could put a stop to the ridiculous rumours that we are engaged. You would have known that Thor and I both asked that the Majesties never plan such an engagement for us, as it would be heartily rejected by us both.”_

_She allowed him a few moments to process her words, still with her hand over his mouth, as she shifted position so she sat cross-legged on his thighs in the steaming water. She knew he had thought of a reply when he plucked her hand off his mouth, kissing it gently before letting it sink through the water’s surface. “Then why did you run off to mother and father with Thor without coming to speak to me first?” It was a fair enough question, she had realised when she figured out he was sulking how the issue would have appeared to him._

_“Because it was such a stupid rumour. Neither Thor or I are interested in each other. We have hopefully put it to bed. I didn’t realise that such stupid mutterings made it to even your dark corner of the library.” The prince had re-scowled at this comment, though it softened slightly as Sif lent forward and kissed him gently, taking his chin in her hand. “Did you honestly think I went to your parents to ask permission to marry Thor?” Her heart pounded as she waited for his reply. She was suddenly nervous, had she really not made enough effort through the years to make him see how much she really did love and appreciate him, even though she didn't always show it?_

_His eyes had softened completely as he saw the look on her face, both the usual grimace and scowl disappearing from his face. “No,” he said gently. “I guess not. I just didn’t think.” Sif had smiled, picking up both his hands with her and twisting his warm fingers through hers. “For someone who spends so much time reading and thinking, you do miss so many of the most obvious facts”._

_His smirk had come back at that, stealing onto his face along with the glint in his eye. “I guess it’s a good thing that you’re always around to remind what’s real and what isn’t then”. Sif had raised an eyebrow, about to question that line of thinking when he suddenly pulled her properly into his arms and kissed her forcefully. The new position and their contrasting state of nudity along with the heat and the steam from the water they were sitting in effectively ended the conversation._

Sif makes an effort to start eating more, start sleeping more again. If she is going to help Loki rebuild all he knows about trust and life, she must start preparing herself for the task. She knows quite well it’s going to be next to impossible, but the challenge is there to strive for, and she will see it through. She improves. Thor stops watching her with worry, she stops venting her feelings on novice swordsmen who don’t know when to duck well enough in the training yards. She picks a day when Frigga comes back from the cell stairs with more shadows that usual in her eyes, and slips down the stairs herself, not pausing at the double doors where she watched from last time.

 

Loki is sitting against the wall, his face almost blank.   He cannot see her from his position, but she sees him. She stops still, to observe him. He is drained, that much is obvious. His eyes look almost empty, only the faintest trace of bitterness visible. Her heart will not break. It beats stronger, as if it thinks it needs to beat for the both of them, to keep both of them alive. She moves into his line of sight, waiting for him, not saying anything. The smallest trace of confusion crosses his face. His masks are still on, but they aren’t as firmly in place, emotions creep through the cracks. Sif can almost see the layers within him peeling, flying backwards to show his thoughts. Disbelief, bitterness, gratitude, tiredness… Most of all his face looks vulnerable. He shifts closer to the corner of the glass, and she walks to meet him, kneeling down to sit on the floor, separated from him only by a sheet of enchanted glass. He slowly brings his hand up, resting it open against the wall, and she mimicks him, placing her hand over his. She doesn’t stop the smile blooming on her face, and she feels it grow wider as a small, truthful smile begins to edge onto his own lips.

 

They sit like this for a long time, just watching each other, with their hands almost touching, until Sif is certain her muscles wouldn’t move if an enemy burst through the door. They sit, just with each other, not saying anything , like they have so many times before.

 

Because in the end, they both know that nothing really needs to be said.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I take all prompts, suggestions, and helpful notations to my works, so please let me know if I've stuffed up somewhere. I love knowing what you guys think of my writing, so if you have the time... Hint hint. Thanks for reading it anyway, hope you liked it :)


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